Mr. Simeon Phinney emerged from the side door of his residence and paused a moment to light his pipe in the lee of the lilac bushes. Mr. Phinney was a man of various and sundry occupations, and his sign, nailed to the big silver-leaf in the front yard, enumerated a few of them. “Carpenter, Well Driver, Building Mover, Cranberry Bogs Seen to with Care and Dispatch, etc., etc.,” so read the sign. The house was situated in “Phinney's Lane,” the crooked little byway off “Cross Street,” between the “Shore Road” at the foot of the slope and the “Hill Boulevard”--formerly “Higgins's Roost”--at the top. From the Phinney gate the view was extensive and, for the most part, wet. The hill descended shar…
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